100 Magical Themes
by emberfire411
Summary: 100 fic-lets of love, heartbreak, friendship, and general shenanigans [100 Themes Challenge, Winx Edition; stop by to leave a suggestion for a chapter]
1. Introductions

_Characters: Mike, Vanessa, Bloom  
Relationships: Mike and Vanessa  
Rating: K+_

* * *

 _Introductions_

* * *

She rushes into Mercy, her brown hair falling into her eyes and blocking her vision. She keeps shoving it behind her ears; tomorrow she's going down to the barber to see Jerica, and having her cut it. Shoulder length, like when she was in high school. Her hair always gets caught in the rose thorns when she cuts them, anyway.

The hospital is loud; people being wheeled this way and that in stretchers. It is obvious who came in due to the fire and who didn't, because the ones who did are sitting together in a row wrapped in shock blankets and those who did not are across the waiting room, staring at them in mute shock. Burns are on bodies of elderly people and small children that make her heart clench up for a moment before she remembers why she's here.

The nurse at the front desk looks frazzled, but she doesn't care as she approaches. The woman is visibly startled by her. "I'm looking for my husband," she says, and the other woman stares at her blankly for a moment.

"He's a firefighter; he came in with Ladder Company 18, his name is Mike - Michael."

The nurse blinks and grabs a chart. "Michael...Peters?"

"Yes."

"...Room six. Through that door, down the hall, third door on the left."

She's gone before the woman finishes her sentence.

The door swings shut behind her and she half-runs, half-walks in the direction she was told to go. She recognizes other men from the station through the slightly parted curtains; Jack Piccoli, Andrew Stremor, Amelia Weston. She hears monitors going off in other room and this sense of dread is still strong in the pit of her stomach. She knew this was a possibility. She'd known since the day he took her out to see a cheap horror movie as their first date. She'd agreed to it anyway. She'd been an idiot.

Her eyes land on him before she finds the corresponding room number. He's sitting on a chair opposite a window. His helmet and jacket are in a pile next to him, a shock blanket around his shoulders. Ash is on his face around his sweat stains. He looks dazed.

"Mike!"

His head snaps in her direction, and she's in his arms before he's fully upright. He smells like an ashtray and detergent from the blanket, and she's vaguely aware her white shirt will be ruined, but she doesn't care.

He kisses her like a reassurance, a promise.

"Vanessa -"

"Julie called me; she saw it on the news. The station called and said you were here and I just…" she's hyperventilating, and Mike pulls her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her back. "Thank God. Thank God you're alright. Are you alright? Are you hurt -"

"Smoke inhalation, but I'm fine. I'm okay."

Minutes pass, and her breathing evens out. She lifts her head to look at his face, kisses him again. "Why are you out here? They said room six."

"I was...checking on someone." he nods his head towards the window.

She follows his gaze. Pediatric ICU. A doctor and two nurses huddled over a baby station. She sees a small foot kick out.

"Oh my god; you found a baby in there?"

"At the center of the blaze."

The feeling in her stomach, steadily depleting, comes back with a brute force. "How bad? Will he make it?"

"She. She's alright." She glances back at Mike, finds the same dazed look she'd seen before on his face. "It...it was incredible, Nessa. She was on a table, in the middle of smoke and heat and she...she was fine. There isn't a scratch on her."

Her eyebrows raise, challengingly. "That smoke got to your head, Mike."

"You think I'd make this up?"

A retort is on her tongue, but then the doctor moves, and her eyes catch the movement of a tiny foot on the table in the room. Her eyes turn in its direction.

The baby is small; she knows enough about babies from the parenting books they've bought over the last two years to know she's months, maybe only weeks old. Her hair is what's the most startling, a red so bright it probably blurred with the fire. She's pale, but other than that looks fine upon a first glance. No burns, no bruises. The baby's eyes blink, and look around the room now that she isn't being crowded. They go to the window, past it, and lock onto Vanessa's. They're blue, like the sky on a June day.

The icy fear gripping her chest melts.

* * *

 _Hi there, hello._ _ **Welcome to the 100 Themes Challenge; Winx Edition**_ _. 100 themes, all 1,000 words or less about the wonderful world of Winx Club._

 _100 is a big number, and there are a lot of themes and characters to get through._ _ **Please feel free to suggest a character, couple (cannon or crack), and/or theme**_ _. There are tons of theme lists out there, so just suggest one that tickles your fancy, and we'll have our own 100 list like cool kids_ _. Also expect a_ _ **shoutout**_ _if I use your suggestion. I look forward to reading them!_


	2. Reflection

_Characters: Riven, Darcy, Musa, Sky (mentioned), Brandon (mentioned)  
Pairings: Riven x Darcy  
Rating: T (language)  
Suggestion from: KawaiiMoonlight_

* * *

 _Reflection_

* * *

He shouldn't be disappointed in her.

Disappointment could be the slogan of his life. Between his mother and his so-called friends and the way people looked at him when he snapped. A walking time bomb that could have amounted to so much more.

Fuck them. Fuck what they thought. He didn't care, anyway.

(He cares. Very much.)

She didn't do that. At least when he was naive and stupid he didn't think she did. Looking up at her face as he came out of the daze of crashing on a motorbike was like breaking the surface of the ocean and seeing a angel. A figurative angel, because she didn't look like the ones in the books his mother read when she was still around. She was a temptress, maybe; a sea witch on land with dark magic to match.

She was beautiful. Even now, he thinks so, and wishes she'd crash a party to hex the Winx wearing a dress, just once. Low-cut, long with an a-line skirt that showed the length of her legs and the curve of her hips.

(He hates that he thinks about this.)

He remembers the first time he took her on a date - he doesn't know if he should call it date, given that he was already under her hypnotic influence, but he calls it one anyway. He took her on a leva-bike to one of the lower summits of Mt. Helios. They brought hot tea and some sort of chip with vinegar she had said she liked. The two of them had sat with their feet dangling over a cliff, watching clouds move in the sky and complaining about how badly life had screwed them over. She had talked about the struggle to stay by her sister's side despite the hardships they had endured as children. He had complained about Sky and Brandon (or Brandon and Sky) and how he felt so useless in the group and how just once he wanted to be seen as a valuable member of a team.

She had listened to him, quietly. Encouragingly. When he was done she said though they hadn't known each other very long, she understood. And she valued him, as minimal as that probably meant to him.

He had kissed her. They had kissed for a long time.

(He still hopes she values him, deep down.)

She laughed when they weaved through traffic on the way back to Cloud Tower, yelling at slower hover cars as they passed. He figured he wasn't supposed to hear her over the roar of the wind. He did. He remembers her laugh. It was deep, but it seemed genuine. He was happy he could make someone laugh like that.

It was all a ruse, of course. Everyone told him that, after the Army of Decay. Teachers, his father, the counselor Saladin made him see, Musa. He valued Musa's opinion on things, because unlike the other girls she didn't bullshit. Eventually he told himself that, and got good at saying it with no remorse in his voice, just annoyance. Annoyance that he'd been betrayed, and that he'd fallen for it. That a relationship he'd had was based on lies, and could never happen in reality.

People still gave him looks of disappointment, but now there was more pity in them. He likes the pity better because it's easier to counteract.

He saw her again, because of course he did. The terms were less friendly, also of course. Ex-girlfriends sucked, but most of them weren't trying to kill you like his was. The first time he tried to catch her eye as he fought to keep a dragon from engulfing Red Fountain in flames. She hadn't met his eye, hadn't even looked in his direction. It happened again, and eventually he stopped trying.

He shouldn't be disappointed in her. He shouldn't be given the aforementioned lies and hypnosis and deception and the trying to kill him and his friends. It should be an open and shut case. Who cared if he'd heard her laugh? Who cared if they'd kissed - if they had kissed more than once? Why would any of that matter because she was a bad guy and he was a good guy. They would fight - for now until one of them was dead. It was their nature, it was what they were destined to do. It wasn't like she would stop one day and come to his - to their side. It had been too long. No one would trust her. He wouldn't be allowed to trust her; not because of written rules, but because of unwritten rules.

He went on with his life.

He wasn't disappointed in her.

(He was disappointed in her.)

* * *

 _ **Mt. Helios**_ _is the mountain that - underneath - contains_ _ **Downland**_ _and_ _ **Shadowhaunt**_ _. It has no name in any dub, but I wasn't about to call it_ _ **that random-ass mountain with all the crap under it**_ _._


	3. Colours

_Characters: Flora, Helia, Bloom_  
 _Pairings: Flora X Helia_  
 _Other Notes: Flower Shop! AU_  
 _Rating: T_

* * *

 _Colours_

* * *

Flora first noticed the boy with the long black hair when she was outside on Sunday morning, misting the roses and daisies that were set up outside. He sat on a bench across the street, a sketchbook in his hand and a shoulderbag at his feet. She watched him stare intently at the page, glancing up occasionally to look at the large oak tree that separated the flower shop from the grocery store.

He stayed there for ten minutes until the bus pulled up. Flora watched him get in through the tinted windows and sit down next to a shadow of another person. It pulled off and turned the corner onto Emerson, and she went back inside to cut roses.

On Tuesday she noticed him again, earlier this time. He still had the sketchbook and the bag, but when she glanced at the clock she saw he was twenty minutes early for the bus. Flora looked at all the work that needed to be done inside - arrangements for two parties and three of their usual deliveries - and grabbed the spray bottle for the outdoor plants.

He was wearing dark jeans and a dark green shirt, his long hair in a braid hanging over his left shoulder. She was too far away to see his eyes, especially since he was only staring at his paper.

"Flora, I need your help in here!" The boy's eyes snapped up as the door to the shop opened and Bloom stuck her head out. Flora watched him look from Bloom to her. Their eyes met, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Then he smiled at her and lifted his hand in a wave, a pencil still between his fingers, and her heart skipped a beat instead.

"...Flora?" The redhead's voice caused her to look away. Bloom was smirking. "Am I interrupting or something?"

Her cheeks reddened, and Flora quickly ducked inside the shop without looking back at the boy.

When she came in the next day, Bloom was out getting breakfast down the street. The redhead had left the itinerary for the day on the counter along with a bottle of water. A sticky note was on it, 'For Artsy Bus Boy' written inside a heart.

Flora rolled her eyes, but still took the water (sans note) when she saw the boy sit across the street at the bus stop. She glanced at the clock - twenty minutes early again. Flora waited for a few minutes so it didn't seem like she was stalking him, took a deep breath, and set off across the street.

He seemed surprised to see her walk across the street. Flora saw him turn a page in his sketchbook so the one he was working on wouldn't be visible. It made her anxious, like she was intruding on his personal space.

"Um…" she began, and mentally hit herself for stuttering. "Hi. I've seen you waiting out here lately."

"Yes," he said after a moment. His voice was deep. Their eyes met and he smiled. "You work in the flower shop?"

"Yes, with the other girl with the red hair. Speaking of which," she held out the water. "Here."

He looked in surprise. "Thank you, but I'm okay."

"Please. She'll kill me if I don't give this to you."

He chuckled at that. "Alright. But only to save you."

Flora smiled and hoped she wasn't blushing. She looked down and caught a corner of his drawing, intricate lines of pencil blending together to create something she couldn't make out with her limited view. "It looks nice," she said, motioning to the page.

"Oh. Thank you," the smile fell off his face as he saw it was visible, and Flora bit her lip. _Nice one, Flora._ "It's not quite finished yet."

"Right, of course. You probably have more details to do...and...color -"

"Color?" he asked, looking back at her. He raised an eyebrow.

She knew for sure she was blushing this time. "Not that...not that that's a bad thing. I just like color is all. Pencil drawings are beautiful though. Just a...preference." she trailed off.

"I completely understand," he said, a smile on his face. "I just use pencil because it'll all I bring when I go to class."

"Ah. That makes sense then."

His smile widened. "Some woman with short hair just went into your shop."

"Oh! She's picking up an order…"

"Go then. Thank you for the water."

"Of course. Stop in anytime you want," Flora said before she lost her nerve, and went back across the street.

Flora opened the shop the next morning, and when she got there there was a page taped to the door. Though she tried to stay quiet, she couldn't help the slight squeal of delight that left her lips as she carefully took it from the door.

The page was an intricate sketch of the oak tree and the two storefronts. Flora knew very little about art, and outside of plants her skills were subpar. But everything in the picture looked realistic, down to the individual flowers outside the store and the cracks in the road she'd crossed to bring the water. He was talented, there was no doubt about it. But that wasn't what excited her most about it.

Drawn in the doorway of the flower shop was a girl. She was much more minimalistic, without a face from how far back she was in the picture. But she was the only thing in the picture not drawn in pencil. Instead, she was colorful; brown hair and a pink dress that bled through the lines, color seeping onto the door and flower stand next to her.

With a giant grin, Flora turned the page over.

 _"I called and the redheaded girl gave me your name. She also told me to ask you out to breakfast at the café down the road, and she would take your shift. I hope to see you there._

 _Helia"_

* * *

 _I know a lot of you are suggesting **Oxygen** as a theme. I'm getting to it, **I promise.**_

 _I was also asked about the list of themes I was personally looking at. Since I can't link it, just **google** ' **100ThemeWriters original list**.' It's the **first result** from the 100ThemeWriters Deviantart page._


	4. Lessons

_Characters: Roxy, Ogron  
_ _Pairings: Oxygen (Roxy x Ogron)  
_ _Rating: T  
_ _Suggestion From: (_ _Literally Everyone)_ _various anons, BadEndFriends_

* * *

 _Lesson_

* * *

"Wild Heartbeat!"

Roxy let her magic fly at the practice dummies set up at the other end of the room, and growled in frustration as their only damage became evident - a dark purple line of glitter where the spell hit. She tried again, and then with both hands instead of one - same results.

After a few more failed attempts, she shrugged against the wall, hopelessness blooming in her chest. Bloom had instructed her to take some time to practice spells in Sibylla's training room while she and the Major Fairy discussed the upcoming trial. Roxy could control her magic in emergency situations based on instinct, but she knew she'd need more practice to get anywhere close to the Winx's level.

If _she got near the level._

From the doorway, there was an amused chuckle. "Having trouble, are we?"

Roxy went from fearful to annoyed in a matter of seconds. She straightened up and walked back to the center of the room, sparing only a glance back towards the voice. "I'm doing perfectly _fine_ , Ogron. Thank you."

The red-haired man leaning against the doorframe didn't flinch at the tone of voice, only smirked. "By all means then, don't let me distract from your practice."

She huffed and focused on the dummies, letting a ball of energy charge in her hands. _You can do this. Just think of his face on those stuffed heads, and you'll be fine._

She inhaled and let the magic go, overshooting the heads of the dummies by a good foot. Instead of cutting them clean off, she left a deep gash in the cave wall behind them.

Ogron burst out laughing, and Roxy felt her cheeks redden. "You," he said between chuckles, "may be the worst shot I've ever seen. How did you hit me in battle again?"

"You want me to knock the memories back into you?" Roxy snapped, letting sparks of green magic fly from her fingertips as she created another ball of energy. This one was aimed for Ogron's head.

Instead of Ogron's smirk vanishing, it widened. "Uh-uh-uh, no harming someone who's come to Sibylla looking for protection, remember?"

The magic dissipated into the air, and Roxy turned back around, unable to meet his eyes. She tried to recreate the ball of energy that was in her hand moments ago, but even that was difficult now. "Whatever. Just...go check on Duman or something. I'm practicing in here."

Behind her, Ogron sighed. ""Well you certainly won't get any practicing done like that – you're far too tense to conjure any sort of magic, nevertheless get your spell to work. Here, let me show you."

Roxy wanted to protest that _no_ , she'd much rather he go jump off a cliff, but before she could he was behind her, his chest pressed against her back. It was...muscular, certainly more than Andy and the band, and even compared to the Specialists.

"See, now you're far too tense." Ogron placed his hands on her shoulders, gently pressing down. "You need to relax, otherwise your magic can't move freely through your body."

The change in attitude was suspicious, but Roxy figured if he planned to attack her, he would have already. After a moment she complied, taking a deep breath. Her shoulders - which she hadn't realized were tensed - drooped. Another breath, and the ball of magic reappeared in her hand.

"Good. Now there are two ways to throw energy like this," Ogron reached for her hand and started to guide her arm through various motions. "First, you can directly fire at each enemy. It allows easier aim, but it takes longer. Or, you can curve a bit of magic, almost like a frisbee. With practice, you can direct it to go from a straight line to seeking an individual person."

His breath was hot on Roxy's ear, making it difficult to focus. "O-Ok. That…makes sense."

"The first three dummies with direct hits, the rest with a single bolt of magic. On your mark."

Roxy straightened her stance, ignoring that it pushed her back into Ogron. She lifted her hand and followed his instructions; she hit the first three square in the chest before launching the bolt of magic. It flew across the room and across the neck of every single practice dummy, cutting them clean through. Ogron's arm stayed with hers, not leading but following along.

"How was that?"

"Um...I mean, yeah. Just, strange, sort of."

"Mmm," she felt vibrations in his chest flow through her body, and she bit her lip. "I've always found teaching magic to be an...intimate affair."

Roxy knew the word choice was meant to vex her, so she purposely kept her mouth shut.

When it became apparent she wouldn't comment, Ogron changed tactics. "Don't you find it strange?"

"What?" Roxy turned her head to look him in the eye.

"The thought that we once spent so much time fighting against each other. And now here we are, fighting for a common goal."

"I'm not so sure how common that goal is."

"Why my dear Roxy," Ogron's smile had a touch of venom. "Don't tell me there are still trust issues between us?"

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you," she hissed. "This little _intimate_ session hasn't made me forget that."

"Has it not? Well that's a pity," Roxy's breath hitched as she felt Ogron's hand brush her hip. "Perhaps we can look into changing that."

"Give me one good reason why."

"Well, to start," he leaned his head closer, and Roxy stayed perfectly still as the tips of their noses touched. "You haven't moved. And such a reaction - or _lack_ of reaction, makes me curious how close two former enemies can get. Don't you think?"

Electricity shot through her at his tone. "I-I...I -"

"Will be here," Ogron interrupted. Roxy couldn't see his mouth, but she could _feel_ his smirk. "Should you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Only then did he step away, turning and slipping out of the room as if he'd never been there in the first place.

* * *

 _Whoo, what a hiatus, huh? Good thing_ _ **that's over**_ _._

 _The goal, tentatively, is to get one of these prompts done_ _ **per week**_ _. I've been slacking on writing lately, and figured this would be_ _ **a good way to get back into it**_ _._

 _As always, feel free to **leave some suggestions** (characters, pairings, theme, etc.) If you've __**already written in**_ _, I've got them written down already!_


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